Jerusalem at The Apollo

What can I say that hasn’t already been said about the wonderful Jerusalem?  It is a marvellous portrait of England’s green and pleasant land in the twenty first century and I can safely say that I enjoyed it even more the second time around, with tears welling up once more when Johnny ‘Rooster’ Byron finally has to give up his fight to stay in his mobile home in the wood.

Mark Rylance doesn’t act, he inhabits and it is impossible to imagine anyone else being the strutting, limping teller of implausible fairy tales to the young who frequently visit him for wild drug and alcohol fuelled parties.  On occasions he delivers lines directly at the audience enabling us to see dark eyes glinting with the heady mix of mischief and something dark and disturbing.  Yet he also manages to convey awkwardness when talking to his son and elicit our sympathy when really his character is often anything but sympathetic.  He is certainly the most exciting and real actor I have ever had the pleasure to watch.

The rest of the cast are also impeccable, from the excellent Mackenzie Crook as Ginger to Alan David as The Professor.  The Designer, Ultz has done the most wonderful job creating the Rooster’s ‘coop’, Ian Rickson, the Director is flawless and the play itself, written by Jez Butterworth is a modern classic, which mixes humour with tenderness, tragedy and violence.

For me and I’m sure for everyone else who has had the privilege of seeing Jerusalem, it is one of the best nights ever at the theatre and it makes me feel so proud to be British.

Noises Off at The Old Vic

I’ve seen several productions of Noises Off, including its first West End run at The Savoy Theatre in 1982, so you may have got the hint that I rather like this play by Michael Frayn.  This new production at The Old Vic, directed by Lindsay Posner more than does it justice.

Noises Off is a play within a play, where a third rate travelling theatre company are performing in a typically clichéd farce entitled Nothing On.  Each of the three acts of Noises Off contains a performance of the first act of Nothing On.  The first act is set during the dress rehearsal in Weston-super-Mare where a lot can and does go wrong, whilst the second act is seen from behind the stage during a performance in Goole and the third shows the play being performed a couple of months later in Stockton-on-Tees.  This time the script has been changed;  real life and farce have merged into a surreal variant on the original.  Add to this mix personal friction within the cast brought about by various sexual liaisons and the whole effect is hilarious, especially when performed by the excellent company of actors here at The Old Vic.

The wonderful Celia Imrie excels as Dolly Otley, whose ‘char’ character, Mrs. Clackett, has her work cut out remembering whether or not a plate of sardines should be on or off stage, whilst Robert Glenister hits just the right note playing the harassed director, Lloyd Dallas.  Every other member of the cast deserves a mention, especially Jamie Glover who as Garry Lejeune  is always stuttering and completing sentences with “you know” but whilst in character as Roger Trampleman has no such speech affectations, Jonathan Coy, playing Frederick Fellows an actor with a serious fear of violence and blood who constantly blames himself when things go wrong and Amy Nuttall who as Brooke Ashton, the inexperienced and dumb actress, is forever searching for her lost contact lenses.  I also particularly enjoyed Paul Ready’s Tim Allgood, the overworked Stage Manager and Understudy.

Noises Off is a perfect way to forget all life’s problems and have a bloody good laugh.

Richard II at The Donmar

Having seen Richard II in the West End once before and not being very inspired by it, I really only booked to see this production because of Michael Grandage.  He always delivers and, as this is his last play as Artistic Director at The Donmar, nothing would keep me away.  And am I glad I bought the tickets.  It bears no resemblance to the rather tedious interpretation I’d seen and the casting of Eddie Redmayne is a stroke of genius.  He is one of those luminous actors who keeps you focused on him whenever he’s on stage.  Plus he can act. 

I don’t know what it is about The Donmar but every production ( well every one that I’ve seen ) manages to create the right atmosphere and setting. This one was no exception.   The scene was immediately set when walking into the wonderful little theatre and seeing King Richard already in place, trance-like on his wooden throne and with the smell of incense in the air.  We were entering the medieval world of gothic arches, oak pillars and the amber glow of candlelight.  Perfect.  Full marks to Designer Richard Kent and David Plater, the Lighting Designer.

The play moves at a cracking pace and with no weak links.  The whole cast speak their Shakespearian dialogue as if it’s the most natural thing in the world and, as a result, one always understands what’s happening.  I’d seen many of the actors in Michael Grandage’s wonderful King Lear last December, so no wonder he is using them again.  Who wouldn’t?  It makes perfect sense.

As I mentioned earlier, Eddie Redmayne makes a wonderful Richard.  He portrays excellently the King’s hauteur whilst still on the throne and then the frailty when he’s usurped by Henry Bolingbroke, expertly played by Andrew Buchan.  In the scene where he is imprisoned Eddie’s Richard discovers emotional depth and self-realisation, which is very moving.  There are three performances which are particularly fine, namely Ron Cook as the bumbling Duke of York, who is torn between national duty and family loyalty, Sian Thomas, who is wonderfully moving as the Duchess of Gloucester and Michael Hadley’s raging John of Gaunt.

I’m sure even non Shakespeare-loving theatre goers would enjoy this production and I can’t wait to see what’s next on Michael Grandage’s agenda.

The Ladykillers at The Gielgud

I was so looking forward to seeing The Ladykillers, mostly because I’ve been hooked on watching Peter Capaldi ever since my first viewing of The Thick Of It. However, I hate to admit that I was slightly disappointed.  Not with his performance as Professor Marcus, for he “nails” playing comically sinister, but with various timing issues – it wasn’t “tight” and cues weren’t crisply picked up.  It’s true that it was only a second night preview but, bearing in mind the cast have been playing it in Liverpool, it could have been much sharper

I’m sure it was just an “off” night as it promised so much.  The set, comprising a gradually subsiding “lopsided” house in Kings Cross, built over the entrance to a railway tunnel and designed by Michael Taylor, is wonderful (must have cost a small fortune) and the comic touch of using toy cars is very ingenious.  There was a slight amateurish moment, when Professor Marcus could be spotted in the wings, climbing down the set, having supposedly fallen out of the window, but I mustn’t dwell on the negatives, as I really did enjoy the evening.

Marcia Warren as Mrs. Wilberforce, the unsuspecting octogenarian widow who rents out a room to the five oddball criminal types intent on planning a bank robbery, is a tour de force.  The criminals posing as classical musicians are well characterised, especially James Fleet, as Major Courtney and Stephen Wight as Harry Robinson.  I was a little disappointed with Ben Miller as Louis Harvey, although he did improve as the play got more into its stride.  The scene where they perform a concert for a bunch of elderly ladies, who are expecting much more than they are given, is hilarious, as is the running joke of Harry Robinson continually being banged on the head.  And the first time a train rumbled past, shaking everything on stage and rendering the conversation between Mrs. Wilberforce and Professor Marcus inaudible, was hilarious.  Full marks to the Sound Designers, Ben & Max Ringham and Special Effects Designer Scott Penrose.

The whole piece managed to convey the fifties very well and stayed true to the original movie, thanks to the writer Graham Linehan.  I so hope they manage to iron out the little niggles because it has the potential of being very funny indeed.

Juno and the Paycock at The Lyttleton

Another day, another play, actually another Irish play – Juno and the Paycock at The Lyttleton.  Playboy of the Western World may have got the good reviews, but, for me this co-production with the Abbey Theatre, Dublin is better, mainly because there are no weak links in the acting department. 

With the Irish Civil War as a backdrop, Juno and the Paycock, set in a Dublin tenement in 1922, concerns the Boyle family;  the father “Captain” Jack Boyle, mother Juno, daughter, Mary and son Johnny.  Jack, excellently portrayed by Ciaran Hinds would rather tell “tall” sea stories than do a job of work.  The work ethic is only instilled in Juno, the stunningly effective Sinead Cusack, as Mary is on strike and Johnny, having lost an arm in the War of Independence, now lives his life in fear of being executed as a punishment for betraying a fellow IRA comrade.  The play brilliantly illustrates the family’s difficulties, celebrations when luck comes calling and heartache when they realise the luck was false.

The physical timing in some of the scenes is superb, testament to the fact that the cast are already immersed in their characters having been playing them in Dublin.  Janet Moran as neighbour Mrs. Maisie Madigan and Risteard Cooper playing Jack’s rogue of a drinking buddy, Joxer, lighten the whole proceedings really well and the duet with Juno and Mary is wonderfully touching.  In fact under Howard Davies’ direction and Bob Crowley’s design, Sean O’Casey’s devastating portrait of wasted potential in a Dublin torn apart by the chaos of War, is perfectly brought to life.  Finally, when the tragedy ultimately strikes Sinead Cusack is intensely moving.

My only reservation is that it took a little while for me to tune into the Dublin dialect, but once there I was hooked.

Hamlet at The Young Vic

It was Shakespeare last night, but with a definite twist.  Director Ian Rickson, Designer Jeremy Herbert and superlative actor Michael Sheen have brought a very different Hamlet to the Young Vic stage and, for me, it works perfectly. 

It’s not often that you enter a theatre by a completely different route, but as soon as the production started, I perfectly understood why it is the case here.  Initially the meandering walk to the auditorium was rather disconcerting and I couldn’t quite work out what was going on.  But that’s presumably the point.  Then the play began and all was revealed.  If no-one has set Hamlet in a present day mental hospital before, one wonders why not, for it actually makes perfect sense and illustrates so well the age old question, is it all in Hamlet’s mind?

Mind you, the whole effect is helped by the fact that Michael Sheen is quite brilliant.  He captures all the mental torment, imbuing the man with warmth, torment, sadness, anger and moments of maniacal laughter, making him totally and utterly believable.  I’ve read that he “is increasingly repulsed by acting”, meaning acting as opposed to reacting and he certainly practices what he preaches.  Another bonus is that he speaks the lines so wonderfully that there were times when I felt the script had been updated;  no need to concentrate to understand the meaning here, everything is perfectly clear.  How lucky are the students studying Hamlet who get the chance to see this production.

I also hugely enjoyed the performances by Vinette Robinson as Ophelia, Michael Gould as Polonius and James Clyde as Claudius, whilst not quite understanding the decision to make Horatio and Rosencrantz female and casting Benedict Wong as Laertes.  For me, it didn’t quite work but, no matter, everything else hit the button and I was captivated as soon as I entered the shabby auditorium, complete with basketball net!  The moments of high drama, surprising technical effects and complete black outs, kept me in that state right to the very end.

No need to compare this version of Hamlet with the recent high profile productions starring Jude Law, David Tenant and Rory Kinnear.  It stands alone.

Collaborators at The Cottesloe

It’s always an enormous pleasure watching Simon Russell-Beale in a production, especially when Nicholas Hytner is the Director, and last night was no exception.  Collaborators, a new play by John Hodge is previewing at The Cottesloe, opening on the 1^st November.  The play is inspired by historical fact and centres on the Russian playwright, Mikhail Bulgakov, who in 1938 was commissioned to write a play about Stalin.

The play enters the surreal world of Bulgakov, played by the excellent  Alex Jennings, as he leaves the impoverished apartment he shares with his wife and three dissidents to have meetings with the murderous dictator.  Their relationship turns out to be macabre and disturbingly funny and causes those back home to question the whole exercise.

Although the play is funny, there are moments of tension,  especially when Stalin, the wonderful Simon Russell Beale and Vladimir, a member of the Secret Police, expertly portrayed by Mark Addy, play their tactical games of uncertainty.  As John Hodge writes in the programme:  a subtle alteration in job description might lead to arrest weeks later, or, just possibly, it might not.

The surrealist moments in the production weren’t always immediately clear, but having to think is often a good thing and Bob Crowley’s staging, although complicated, worked well.  Mind you, the slope dividing the apartment’s bedroom from the living area, needs careful negotiating;  one actor obviously misjudged it and did an awkward “soft shoe shuffle”.

I thoroughly enjoyed this thought provoking insight into life in Moscow under Stalin’s reign of terror and the chemistry between Simon Russell Beale and Alex Jennings was a joy.

The Playboy of the Western World at The Old Vic

Mmmm, The Playboy of the Western World?  Having read several of the “professional” critics’ views on The Old Vic production of J.M. Synge’s historic play, I went along last night with avid anticipation that I would witness something extraordinary.  I’m sorry to say, I was disappointed.  Is it because I have no Irish blood coursing through my veins?  Surely not, after all I adored The Beauty Queen of Leenane at The Young Vic and that has more than a hint of the blarney stone. 

The play centres on Christy Mahon who arrives at a shabby pub and soon becomes the hero of the hour following his confession that he’s just murdered his father.  As in all good tales he is found out as a sham during the second act and those that originally feted him turn into his prosecutors.

It all started promisingly, with a troupe of Irish musicians, women, and men dressed as such, harmoniously delivering an Irish folk song.  Then the shabby shebeen, where all the action takes place, rotated to reveal it’s innards – ah, ha, a great set from Scott Pask, I thought;  so far so good.

The coming apart at the seams started when Ruth Negga as Pegeen  and  Robert Sheehan as Christy Mahon delivered their lines.  Much is said about the lyrical quality of Synge’s writing, but for me these two young actors didn’t deliver anything near.  Instead I strained to understand much of what they were saying.  Neither inhabited or seemed at ease with their roles and I became irritated by Sheehan’s stooping and arm flapping and Nega’s shouting, posturing and lack of any warmth. Thank goodness for Niamh Cusack as the seductive Widow Quin and Kevin Trainor who brought humour and a soaring voice to Pegeen’s wooer, Shawn Keogh.

I’ve just watched a YouTube snippet of Garry Hynes’s 2004 production of ‘Playboy’ with Cillian Murphy as Christy and Anne-Marie Duff as Pegeen.  If I’d seen this version in it’s entirety I’m sure I would also eulogise about this play.  As it is, I’m glad I’ve seen it but it’s not there amongst my favourites.

Inadmissible Evidence at The Donmar

It was off to The Donmar last night to see Inadmissible Evidence.  My early distraction at losing my stamped car park ticket was immediately dispelled as Douglas Hodge enthralled from start to finish.  He plays Bill Maitland, a seedy, middle-aged lawyer in the throes of a melt down on experiencing the breakdown of his professional and personal life, made all the more devastating as he has only himself to blame.  It is a wonderful, if exhausting part for an actor to play and Douglas Hodge more than does it justice.  By turns, funny, desperate, angry and pathetic, he manages to illicit our sympathy, despite being a nightmare to those around him.   There is wonderful support on hand, particularly from Al Weaver as Jones and Daniel Ryan as Hudson.  It is wordy but in the hands of the director, Jamie Lloyd and his leading man, who gives a damn.  Definitely a must see. 

September

I’ve succumbed to pressure (well three suggestions) from friends to do a theatre blog, seeing as how I spend far too much time, and money (according to certain people) on pursuing my passion.  Well shouldn’t a passion be indulged because, if not, why have one?   And if the passion is healthy, informative, fun and free from mortal sin, even more reason to continue sending yearly subscriptions to The National, Donmar and Old Vic.  So my three, four, sometimes more evenings a month, heading down the M11 to replace all things racehorse with all things thespian will continue ad infinitum with, hopefully, Pen, my partner in crime and Annie, my daughter, in tow.

SEPTEMBER was quite busy, with four new previews at The National and an unprecedented Saturday trip to The Vaudeville.

We started with Arnold Wesker’s The Kitchen at The Olivier.  It was fun to see that wonderful space transformed, thanks to the Designer Giles Cadle, into the Tivoli restaurant, especially as the last time we were there it housed the eerie, sombre world of Professor Frankenstein and his Creature.  I expected a naturalistic piece of theatre but instead, Director Bijan Shelbani cooked up a superbly choreographed dance, no mean feat when in charge of 30 or so characters.  The slight whoosh of gas being lit, glimmer of naked flames and bubbling of imaginary sauces being stirred enhanced the feeling that this was a real kitchen, despite there being no actual food, apart from what looked like olive oil.  The ensemble cast were flawless and the main character of Peter, a strung out German fish cook who persuaded me that he could explode with emotion at any time, was poignantly played by Tom Brooke. Various critiques have criticised the play as being imperfect, but perfection is rare and, for me, The Kitchen, served up an excellent evening.

Next up was Mike Leigh’s new play, Grief, at The Cottesloe. Being a huge fan, I was full of
excited anticipation on Monday, 19^th, especially as at this stage we still didn’t know the title of his new offering.  The acting couldn’t be faulted.  Lesley Manville, was at her dynamic best playing Dorothy, the sad, buttoned up mother, helpless as to how to get through to her equally depressed daughter, Victoria, played by a superb Ruby Bentall.  Sam Kelly, playing her older, bachelor brother Edwin, was mesmerising, whilst the other characters superbly brought snatches of light relief into this desperate suburban sitting room.  The despair was tangible, thanks to Mike Leigh’s attention to the smallest detail.  Every character was beautifully drawn;  no caricatures here, just tiny subtle gestures speaking volumes.  The many scene changes were not so much changes as rearrangements and, whilst they hindered Annie’s enjoyment, they enhanced mine, helping to portray the repetitive, desolation of this family’s daily life.  The devastating ending, although in a way expected, was still emotionally shattering.  More new plays please Mike – may I call you that?

We had the treble up with goodies, because the third preview, this time at The Lyttleton, was also excellent.  The Veil, Conor McPherson’s new play drew me in and kept me there for the whole 2 hours, 45 minutes.  Even Annie, who wasn’t so sure about the subject matter, namely psychics and hauntings, was completely captivated.  Rae Smith’s spooky Irish country estate house set the scene completely, aided and abetted by Lighting Designer, Neil Austin and Stephen Warbeck’s Sound Design.  I knew from the beginning that we were in for a treat, although, as in all good stories, I didn’t know exactly where it was going and was desperate to find out.  The characters who took us on the journey were beautifully portrayed, although I was rather bemused with Grandie;  presumably she was suffering from dementia?  For me, the three actors who particularly stood out were Jim Norton as The Reverend Berkeley, Peter McDonald playing Mr. Fingal the estate manager and the daughter, Hannah, played by Ursula Jones.  Fingal’s breakdown towards the end of the play moved me to tears and Hannah’s hysteria could so easily have been annoying and contrived in the wrong hands.  I’d also like to say that Peter McDonald is very easy on the eye!

Broken Glass at The Vaudeville was the final play of the month and I have a confession to make.  Now, don’t get me wrong, I admire Arthur Miller, Anthony Sher and Tara Fitzgerald enormously, but this production failed to engage.  I know, I know, it’s had wonderful reviews and, quite rightly, because Anthony Sher as Phillip Gellburg and Tara Fitzgerald as Sylvia, his wife are deeply moving, but, horror of horrors, I had to fight to stay awake.  This will probably stop anyone ever reading anything I write ever again (if they ever did) but I’m not prosecuting the production, more the space in which it is housed.  It was a very hot, muggy night in late September (remember that Indian summer) and our seats were in Row P, meaning that we had the balcony acting as a low ceiling, making the whole experience rather claustrophobic.  I felt as if I were sitting at the back of a long tunnel and totally failed to engage with what was going on on stage.  Maybe if the piece had been staged incorporating more “business”, my attention would have held, but however hard I tried – and try I did – there were long snatches of conversation I missed as my head drooped.  I’m sure if I’d seen it in a more intimate space, where the whites of the character’s eyes were visible, I would have enjoyed it more.  I should have gone to see it at The Tricycle.

Great, first blog done and dusted.  Who said I wouldn't get round to doing it?